


Jealousy

by swishydetective



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, Angst, Clueless lovers, Crowley has comfort sex with Freddie Mercury ok, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Historical References, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired by headcanon, Jealousy, Lots Of Queen References, Love, M/M, Mention of sex, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Picnics, Post Armaggedon't, Post-Canon, Romance, ends in fluff, these two dumbasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishydetective/pseuds/swishydetective
Summary: There's nothing like a road trip to discover that a demon and an angel had one-night-stands with iconic artists while they really wanted each other.





	Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a text post I saw on Tumblr that said Crowley discovered Aziraphale had slept with Oscar Wilde so he decides to sleep with Freddie Mercury. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this, I sure enjoyed writing these two idiots in love, they've completely taken over.

Crowley and Aziraphale were sitting in the Bentley, driving 90 in a 50 zone, the angel gripping his seat for dear life. Armaggedon had been adverted a few months ago now and the two supernatural entities were back to their routine of cancelling each other’s actions. Today, Crowley had convinced his partner to a little road trip up to Brighton to « cause a little trouble », which was really an excuse to have a picnic by the sea. As they exited the city, Aziraphale finally relaxed, Crowley going only at the necessary speed. _News of the World_ was playing at a normal volume and the angel had to say the powerful voice of the singer was quite pleasantly used in this album. He made a face when the rauchy _Get Down, Make Love_ started playing, as Crowley’s yellow eyes glinted with malice and laughter.

 

-Could we listen to anything else? This song... Oh dear-

 

The blonde was interrupted by the downright filthy bridge. Crowley erupted in laughter, endeared by Aziraphale’s embarrassement.

 

-Fine, I’ll skip this one.

 

He pressed on the console and the soft melody of _My Melancholy Blues_ filled the car. The song seemed to please the angel quite a bit.

 

-Well that’s lovely, the divine creature said.

 

Crowley’s smirk was softer than usual, almost reminiscent. The angel picked up on the expression immediately. After all, when you spend six millenia with someone, you start to recognize their different moods pretty easily.

 

-What is it, dear? Aziraphale asked softly.

 

-It was written about me, answered the demon quite simply.

-I beg your pardon? You met Freddie Mercury? Wait, he wrote a song... How close were you two?!

 

The angel could feel something tightening in his chest, and couldn’t help but pout. He was familiar with jealousy, this ugly emotion, and he tried his best to hide it from the nostalgic demon. The latter remained silent until the last note of the song, after which he lowered the volume to a whisper.

 

-It was in 1976... I was at a... bar, after a long night of demonic activities, you know, just the usual, flat tires here and there, mysterious disappearance of one’s wallet and so on.

 

Aziraphale sighed at the mention of petty evil deeds.

 

-... I was drinking alone when he walked in, with his dark eyes and high cheekbones. Of course I recognized him instantly, you know. I didn’t want to bother him so I stayed at the bar but soon enough he came to me, alone...

 

**_1976\. Heaven, gay club._ **

 

_-Drinking alone, darling?_

 

_-I guess so, replied the demon._

 

_The singer waved at the waiter to bring them both new drinks. Crowley’s heart would’ve fluttered in his chest if he wasn’t who he was. But he was hung up on a certain blue-eyed angel who thought he was going too fast. They hadn’t really talked since Aziraphale had given him the holy water, Crowley’s feelings secretly crushed. He kept taking chances with the angel, but it seemed that the message wasn’t clear enough. Or he just wasn’t interested. The coffee cup was on the demon’s nightstand, a reminder that he wasn’t completely immortal._

_The raven-haired man started making conversation with Crowley, who found him very interesting. His posh accent and his shy smile reminded the occult creature of a certain someone. They drank and drank, Mercury trying to cheer Crowley up. He put a hand on the demon’s shoulder, at the base of his neck. The fallen angel, half heartbroken and half starstruck let the rest happen. They went back to the singer’s lavish flat together, spending a night of drunken passion in each other’s arms. The demon had slept there and the next morning they exchanged numbers, the singer having taken a liking to the fiery-haired man. They rarely called each other, since both knew this was a one-time thing. One early autumn morning though, he received a call. He recognized the soft voice with the hint of an Indian accent._

 

_-I wrote a song about you, he had told him._

 

_Crowley, incredulous, asked to hear it but the singer said he would have to wait until the album came out. He said he would know which one it was._

 

**Present. The Bentley.**

 

Aziraphale remained silent after Crowley recounted the story (omitting a few details about a golden-haired angel). After a few minutes, he broke the silence:

 

-What had gotten you so down?

 

-Do you remember Paris in 1890? uttered the golden-eyed man.

 

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed, trying to recall what was special about that year. His cheeks and ears suddenly turned a bright crimson, his eyes looking everywhere but at the demon.

 

-I’d heard you were there and I wanted to pop by, you know, as we do. But I couldn’t find you. I felt that you were close, but you were busy. I didn’t think much of it then, figured you were on angel duty. But that night, in '76, I miracled myself back in early Paris, needed some real wine you know, and I bumped into a young man. He was very angry, as I understood, there was a blonde-haired man with his lover, who had promised him his next book would be about him. He was afraid he had given his heart to a cruel Irishman.

 

Aziraphale had turned back towards the demon, who parked the car softly. Mouth agape, blue eyes wide in shock, the angel didn’t know what to say. For all these years, Crowley had sat on the knowledge that he had _known_ Oscar Wilde. Then he stopped being embarrassed about the indulgence and his mind went blank as he realized that was why Crowley was down. He was sad because Aziraphale had slept with someone else? The angel’s eyes danced from side to side, as he realized how the demon must’ve felt, since hearing about the affair with the rock singer had left a bitter taste in the angel’s mouth. Then came the realization that they were both pining after each other.

 

-Oh, Crowley... _Oh, Crowley_ -

 

The angel made a sound between a laugh and a sob. He raised a hand towards the demon’s jaw, turning his lovely face so he could see him. He discarded him of his shades so he could see his beautiful golden eyes. Crowley was petrified, but there was still sadness in his eyes when he looked at his angel. Aziraphale closed the gap between them, brushing their lips together, softly, softly, asking for permission. Both of their mouths fell open, breathing in the other. Before they knew it, they crashed their lips against each other’s, thousand of years leading up to this very moment. Crowley made a needy whine as he ran his fingers through the feathery blonde hair. Aziraphale’s hands roamed the demon’s long, tight torso, giving in to temptation like never before. He felt rightfully sinful, and he imagined this is what Eve must’ve felt like biting into the apple. They ravaged each other’s bodies, their hands exploring every valley and every peak. Their lips parted, both panting, much more from the adrenaline than from a need for air.They stayed entertwined, making the moment last as long as they could. Crowley’s long fingers traced the patterns on Aziraphale’s vest.

-We’ve been pretty stupid haven’t we, my dear?

 

Crowley let out a shaky laugh as he looked into the angel’s eyes. He could only hope his serpentine eyes reflected as much love as the angel’s were in this moment.

 

-How long..? the blonde whispered.

 

-You had me at « I gave it away, » Crowley smiled.

 

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. The demon felt that familiar warmth as he watched his angel beam.

 

-You know, for me, it was the Blitz. You walked in a church for me. You saved my books, even if you didn’t have to... I’m sorry it took so long before I came to terms with it.

 

The demon nodded and kissed him again, showing him it didn’t matter now.

 

-Up for a picnic, angel?

 

Aziraphale nodded. They had the rest of eternity to make up for 6,000 years of lost time.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
